


On Her Radar

by issagaymer



Series: Amari's [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issagaymer/pseuds/issagaymer
Summary: A scheduling conflict leads to an unexpected opportunity...





	On Her Radar

_5 years ago_  
Angela hauled two bags of flour from the truck into the prep kitchen in the summer sun. She prayed for Ana to just drop it so she could sit in the cooler and lay the bags of frozen vegetables against the back of her neck.

“I can’t come in Sunday, Ana, you know I have church. Let prep do the rest of the deliveries!”

“No, you’re the face of our bakery, child! We can’t have Aleksandra dropping off your sweets, now can we. No offense, dear” she placed a gentle brown hand against Z’s shoulder as she mixed soup in the oversized blender. She felt Ana pat her back and she popped out her ear plugs, blasting dubstep so loud Angela could hear it, “huh?”

“Nothing, dear” Ana smiled and patted again, widening her eyes at Angela. “See what I mean?”

Fareeha bounded down the stairs in a Columbia tank top, a gym bag slung over one shoulder, cut off jean shorts and to everyone’s displeasure, flip flops. “Ma! Winston said you were-“

“Fareeha! If you are behind that counter you know you can’t wear those! And you come down here?!” Ana berated her daughter as if she’d gotten her saddle shoes dirty after Easter dinner. “Get back upstairs!” She turned back to Angela, “if you can’t get our deliveries out by the end of the day, you’ll have to come in Sunday” Ana was firm when she needed to be and the finality in her voice almost made Angela waver.

“I’m short down here today, Ana, and I told you when I got hired what my schedule could be so if you think-“

“I could help!” Ana and Angela turned to the doorway where Fareeha still stood, eyes fixed on the blonde baker. Angela scoffed, relieved she’d broken the tension but ignored her.

“Ana, anyone else can drive the truck. I have to finish up down here” being head baker gave her some authority, but Ana was unflinching. She saw her daughter still transfixed on Angela and in that look, an opportunity to get her interested in actually running a restaurant and her head out of her textbooks.

“Faraah, you remember our head baker Angela? she’s short staffed today. You help her load up this weeks deliveries and I’ll take over down here.” She was already grabbing an apron, tying it slowly and pulling her Grey hair up when Angela finally found her voice again.

“Ana you are kidding! Fareeha hasn’t worked a day in this kitchen and you’re pushing her off on me!?” She was brandishing a rubber spatula in Fareeha's direction, who wasn’t sure if she liked the implication but loved hearing Angela say her name.

“She volunteered” she waived a hand and was already checking off the list of tasks on a laminated clip board. And that was that. “Fareeha! Put some shoes on! God willing you don’t lose a toe lifting boxes!” Fareeha tore open her gym bag with a Columbia Women’s Rugby Club emblem on the side, hastily throwing on a pair of Nike trainers.  
————————————

  
Angela was impressed with Fareeha's strength as they loaded up the delivery truck. Boxes of pastries weren’t heavy but the ice chests they were stored in added a substantial amount of weight. She had to stop herself several times from staring at the younger woman’s straining smooth muscles. It had been almost a year since she left her ex, throwing herself into work at Amari’s and service at the Lutheran church. It didn’t mean she’d stopped looking at women, but meant she stopped herself short of actually approaching them. It was easier to use early morning baking or volunteering at an adult learning center as an excuse to leave the bar when she felt a familiar longing for companionship.

At any rate, this wasn’t just a woman, but her bosses daughter. Her bosses entitled, flip flop wearing daughter. Her bosses rugby playing, broad shouldered, long eye-lashed, honey brown eyed daughter. She hadn’t seen the girl since she started her first year in undergrad and when she came back, a full grown woman was in here in her place, taking a break before she enrolled in law school in the fall.

“You know you don’t have to break your back with those,” Angela was looking down at the truck manifest to avoid noticing the soft feminine features in the younger woman’s face.

Fareeha grinned with ease, her dark skin barely breaking a sweat in the 80 degree heat. “Is that why you’re taking your time with the inventory?” A gentle rib at Angela’s slight frame elicited an unexpected response as she slammed the clipboard against the truck floor and threw a box on her shoulder with a surprising calm and cocked an eye brow at Fareeha as she dropped it with the rest. “Okay, so you’re stronger than you look... I’ll keep that in mind.” Fareeha wouldn’t be outdone and stacked two of the same boxes on top of one another and loaded them up.

“For what?” Angela felt a sudden heat in her cheeks and ears she hoped Fareeha didn’t notice.

“For when we go out later tonight. I was thinking we could go to the batting cage in Chelsea and I didn’t want you to embarrass me with weak swings.” Fareeha was very matter of fact, as if she’d already agreed to spending the evening with her while a smug smile covered her nervous habit of chewing her bottom lip. She was glad to be lifting boxes or else Angela might have seen her hands shaking at the bold prospect she’d just laid before her.

Angela scoffed at the arrogance and rolled her eyes, “Really? That’s the way you’re playing this? You certainly have gotten daring now that you’re all grown up” referring with condescension to the shy girl Fareeha used to be.

“You know you’re not that much older than me” Fareeha huffed, setting a heavy box on the ground in an act of protest, “And how else should I play it? Knocking on your door with a bouquet shaking in my hands?”

“Maybe next time, try a little humility. You can’t always get your way by being entitled.” Angela loaded up the last box in a huff and climbed down while slamming the back hatch, barely glancing at the dark skinned woman for fear of losing her temper and demanding Ana out of her kitchen. She hopped into the driver seat while Fareeha stood seething. She glanced out the window “Are you gonna get in or did you get your fill of work for the day?”

Fareeha cursed as she found herself climbing into the passenger seat and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Forget it, then. I guess having a good time would interfere with your martyr complex.”

“You know what, I liked you better when you kept your mouth shut and only wrote about me in your diary.” Fareeha went white hot from head to toe - write one bad poem about an older blonde baker and suddenly everyone thinks you’re in love with them.

Angela shoved the keys into the ignition and gripped one side of the over-sized steering wheel with her other hand. Just as she was thinking she may have been too cruel, she felt Fareeha's hand around her wrist before she could shift the truck into drive.

“Then please? Can I take you out tonight? Your choice. I’ll even keep my mouth shut if that’s what it takes... ” Her eyes were clear of any pretension or haughty privilege and her heart pounded in her throat.

Angela was struck by the gentle grip around her wrist - hands so powerful from sport that it seemed impossible for them to be attached to such a suddenly vulnerable woman. She broke the grip and shifted into gear.

“If you can get these all delivered today and I don’t have to come in Sunday morning, I’ll probably marry you.” Her voice was sarcastic, but Fareeha knew she’d won at least one date with the woman she’d been in love with since 16. Two and a half years later, Angela kept her promise.


End file.
